


Grounded

by vintaged



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddles, Dean - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Sleep, cas - Freeform, nothing too serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintaged/pseuds/vintaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little bit of fluff; post season 8</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounded

He’s far from home and yet when Dean grabs his wrist, he feels so grounded it’s as if he should never have been anywhere else.

“Don’t go,” Dean slurs, his voice muddled with sleep and confusion. “Don’t go, Cas.”

Castiel turns to look at the hunter; takes in his rumpled appearance in the dark, the shadows playing across freckled cheeks; casts his gaze down to the grip on his wrist, sliding down now to his hand.

“I just came to check on you,” the ex-angel murmurs in reply, though he doesn’t make any move to leave. “I cannot watch over you as well now, so I thought-” 

Dean half-smiles. Lifts his free hand to his head, runs his fingers through the bird’s nest that his hair has become. He tightens his grip on Castiel, tugs him forwards a bit.

“C’mon, man,” he says quietly. “You need sleep. You can’t keep doing this in the middle of the night, you’re gonna wear yourself out.” Again with that hand, linking their fingers together now. Cas is surprised by the sudden tightness in his chest.

“I-”

All of a sudden Dean pulls, and Cas can feel himself lose balance for a moment. He staggers forward, his knee pressing into the mattress. Dean smiles and drops his hand, cocking an eyebrow.

He doesn’t say please, but it’s there; in his expression, in the curve of his body; in the way that he tips his head slightly, beginning to waken more the longer he stays upright.

“Well?” comes that hoarse voice.

Castiel pauses. He realizes with a little jolt in his stomach that he would very much like Dean to take ahold of his hand again, maybe both his hands. Maybe run fingers through _his_ hair, this time. 

So Cas climbs into the bed, shuffling out of his too-big slippers, and Dean smiles languidly. Rolls backwards, lets the ex-angel make himself comfortable. Doesn’t seem to mind when their arms brush.

In the back of his mind Castiel wonders if Dean will regret this in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> really this isn't anything particularly unique; it's just my first post on ao3, so I figured it should be light. Hope you enjoyed!:)


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